August 8, 2008


Why vines on desolate winter hills? we ask;
The chill bird seeks—a fruitless, wormless task;
But still, with faith from deeper knowledge grown,
The calm vine-grower renovates his cask.

As vines in winter store, and bloom in spring,
Our hearts, though dull, absorb, later to sing;
Grapes ripen, and are picked, ferment to wine;
Our sweet-grown works, inspired, true knowledge bring.

Our wheat-yield’s up, and Science we exalt,
And say life’s pointlessness is not its fault;
And wonder why our bread’s so tasteless now—
Forgetting that we are ourselves the salt!

So we learn Triad, Twelveness, Mystic Seven,
In seeking knowledge for a rise to Heaven;
As with the best in West we didn’t rise,
The dough we are with Eastern yeast we leaven.

As wine aspires to grape, water to wine,
The guided mass aspires to the Divine;
We only ask the guidance of the Mass
To further our intention to refine.

As Calyx turns the petals to sun-glance
Chalice turns flower of Chivalry to Lance;
The purple grape foretold impassioned Christ,
The shared Cup turns and feeds us in the Dance.

Choose faith as you would choose a favourite star:
The one that’s brightest to you where you are;
Search for your key right here where it was lost,
With light of Tao, or Christ, or Inch’allah.

Only: exemplify by work your love—
Clear the blocked way for those too weak to shove,
Light up life’s scene for eyes to weak to see,
And help transform Below into Above.

Published: Rubies In The Darkness, UK, Winter 2005

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